


new rites

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Future Fic, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Scars, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, coulson family feels, not a date date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson are the only ones without a date on Valentine's Day. So they decide to stay back at the Playground and work. They do not get much work done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	new rites

"How come I'm the only one on analog duty on Valentine's Day?" she asks, putting the endless stack of files Coulson has just given her back on his desk.

He shrugs. His stack is just as tall.

"Everyone else asked me to have the day off," he tells her. "You didn't."

"Fair point," she concedes. " _Everyone_?"

"It's Saturday and Valentine's Day. People make plans."

And well, okay, she's such a loser, thanks for reminding her, and Skye was trying very hard not to think about that. But now the Playground is empty except for her and Coulson, so the loser status is kind of scientifically proved here.

"Yeah, except me," she sighs. Coulson gives her a sympathetic look.

"Sorry," he says, picking up the folder on top of the others without much enthusiasm himself.

"Why aren't these files digitalized?" she asks.

"We have been busy the last couple of years," Coulson says humorously, because if anyone has noticed the busy that's Skye. Hell, she's been mostly the cause of the busy herself. "And we don't have the manpower to spare."

"What am I looking for again?"

"Any reference to unnamed weapons in 1978. SHIELD developed something – something dangerous. It turns out we didn't."

"Hydra did," Skye adds.

"And now it's out in the market. But we don't know exactly what it is or what it does. Just when it was built."

"This looks like a long night ahead of us."

"Basically, yes," Coulson tells her, sinking into his chair.

Skye's mind drifts to the fact that everyone else is out tonight. And she didn't have a clue.

" _Everyone_?" she asks again. "I knew Mack and Bobbi had a date, but the rest?"

"Simmons is taking Hunter to one of those speed dating places," Coulson says, he makes a face like he hopes he doesn't sound too out of touch with the world by saying that.

"That's nice," Skye says, thinking Simmons probably just wants to cheer Hunter up.

"I really don't want to know."

Skye finds it hard to believe they all had plans without telling her. Or maybe she has forgotten.

"Where's May? Is she spending the weekend at Andrew's again?"

"Yes," Coulson replies.

"And don't tell me that Fitz has finally scooped that cute new lab assistant up?"

"Mmm-uh."

" _No_ ," she says, impressed. She's glad for Fitz, but also a bit jealous Fitz of all people has a date with a hot guy and she doesn't.

"He says he's only taking him to see the town, nothing to do with Valentine's Day. But I'm the Director of SHIELD, I know stuff."

Skye smiles at the way he says that.

"Come on, we can't be the only ones here without a date. I refuse to believe that. What about Koenig?" she asks. Coulson raises an eyebrow at her. "Billy has a date. Wow. No offense to Billy but –"

"He looks like he might have a mild stroke if he takes a night off work," Coulson finishes for her.

"So it's official," Skye realizes. "I'm the most pathetic human being in existence, and I'm barely a human, I'm practically a superhero. And I'm stuck here on Valentine's Day like a l–"

"Well, _thanks_ ," Coulson says, making a grimace.

She smiles conciliatory at him. Somehow she can't imagine Coulson being bothered about not dating – he is sort of aloof about these things, not just private, and Skye guesses he still has feelings for his ex-girlfriend and not really in the mood. It must be by choice, he doesn't look like the kind of guy who has ever had trouble finding a date on Valentine's Day.

 

+

 

Damn, the work is gruelling.

Coulson hasn't done this kind of job in so long he had forgotten how much it feels like scraping his forehead against a cheese grater. Skye looks like she is about to key Lola in retaliation for making her do this. And she is right, if they had taken the time to digitalize all of the old SSR and SHIELD files they wouldn't need to be here, but this is kind of urgent, it can't wait until they've completed such a huge endevour. You would think Fury's Cube contains every file one could ever need and you would be wrong, so wrong. There are gaps and blind spots in SHIELD's history.

They have tried everything to fight boredom and they haven't been at this even two hours. Coulson tried putting on some music and it had worked for a while then the cool sounds of Chaka Khan started to just irritate the both of them with their promise of a world outside these walls and this menial task.

"Okay, we need some air," Skye declares finally, standing up from her cross-legged posture.

"What do you propose?"

"Downstairs. Games."

 

+

 

"You're pretty good at this," Skye comments, praising Coulson's pinball technique.

Yes, she's playing this ridiculous vintage pinball machine with her boss on Valentine's Day instead of doing the kind of stuff the rest of the world is doing. She wonders how many people are actually out there tonight, enjoying their time with the partners. 

Partners...

Must be nice.

Well, she's not exactly having a bad time herself. The job is maddeningly boring but this bit right now, Coulson acting in such an uncharacteristic way, sleeves rolled-up and all concentrated on a stupid game, the way his tongue sticks a bit when he focuses on the play, at least it's not something you see every day, Valentine's or not.

"Maybe you're good because you lived through the golden era of pinball," she teases him.

He throws a hard, sharp glance at her.

"Skye..."

"No, I did not just call my boss old, in case you were wondering. I totally _did not_ "

"I let that one pass, but you are on probation."

She snorts.

 

+

 

They end up in the couch, too depressed by the perspective of having to go back to the office. It's bad enough that they still have to go through pages and pages and pages of internal memos and ambiguous official language like this. 

They are both leafing through their respective folders when Skye glances up at him from the opposite end of the couch.

"Look, Valentine's Day is just a made-up thing to boost sales, a cosumerist trap," she starts.

"Yes, you had a whole Rising Tide podcast about that," he says, casually.

She looks at him in wonderment.

"You listened to that?"

"Of course. When SHIELD was tracking you down because of Mike Peterson. I did my homework on your organization."

"You listened to my podcasts," she repeats. "It hadn't occurred to me that – I'm kind of embarrassed."

"You don't have to be."

She puts her face in her hands and lets out a muffled, mortified sound between her fingers.

He means it. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Coulson liked her podcasts. He liked her way before he even met her.

"You were talking about Valentine's Day being a consummerist trap?"

She recovers easily, crossing her legs and leaning towards him.

"I know it has no real meaning, today. And I shouldn't be bothered that all my team is out there having fun and I'm – well, not out there. But–"

"You are bothered."

She nods, rather solemnly. 

Coulson knew it was bothering her, he didn't know she was worried enough that she'd actually come out and say it. It's the sort of thing Skye normally keeps to herself.

"I remember when I was a kid," she tells him. "Did you do the dumb Valentine's cards in your school? The girls had to make cards for at least one kid in the class. Remember when only the girls did that? Now it's everybody, I think."

"We had that in my school too," he tells her. "I bet you were too unconventional for that, refused the assignment."

"No, actually I was _very conventional_ ," Skye admits and Coulson guesses that makes sense too. "Or I was trying hard to be. I used to write cards for like all the boys in my class. Shocking, I know. But there comes that magical time in the life of a pre-teen girl when she finds a boy she really likes and then she doesn't want to make those cards for anyone else."

Coulson can't help but smile about the idea, this sort of confession.

"A boy got you in his clutches, uh?"

"Totally," Skye says, eyes wide like she can't still believe, so many years later, she was such a dupe. "I was twelve – it was right before life got really shitty. He was older than me, of course. Jorge."

"Jorge."

"Long hair. He used to wear t-shirts of hardcore bands. The Offspring, Green Day, that sort of thing. I was so impressionable. I bought chocolate for him and all."

"Did it work?"

She snorts. " _Did it work_? Of course not. He was fifteen. He took the chocolate and never spoke one word to me until he graducated."

"I'm sorry," he says, trying not to laugh at poor twelve-year-old Skye. "At least you didn't embarrass yourself in front of your class by misunderstanding how Valentine's Day worked at your school and assuming it was the boys who had to give stuff to the girls."

"Oh no," Skye mutters, covering her mouth. She's the one trying not to laugh now.

"Oh yes. I can still hear the _Are you a girl, Phillip?_ of my schoolmates resonating through the hallways."

"Now I feel better about not having a date tonight," she tells him.

"Glad to be of help."

She laughs again. It's a good sound, specially in Skye, now that she's finally able to do it without guilt, after everything that happened last year. It's a good sound today, after all the boredom.

"It wasn't my fault," he protests. "I was used to seeing my father send my mother a card every year, I thought Valentine's Day was just guys' stuff."

"Nice," Skye says, always careful around any mention of Coulson's family – which he guesses is the reason why he's come to feel comfortable enough over time to talk to her about it. He is not going to therapy (yet) but he wants to be a more approachable person, a better boss all around. At some point Coulson decided he should talk about his past more often, if only for his own mental health. But it never quite feels safe. Well. With Skye it feels a bit safe.

"What was your first Valentine's Day date?" she asks him, suddenly.

Coulson should worry about this getting too personal, wants to worry, but he doesn't really stop.

"What?"

"Come on, Coulson. Nobody forgets their first Valentine's Day with someone else."

"Okay," he gives in. "My first girlfriend."

"Was she cool?"

He narrows his eyes, trying to remember her name, how she looked, why did they brak up, was she cool. "She used to dye her hair blue," he tells Skye.

"That's cool."

"I thought so. It was a cute date. We weren't old enough to drive so my mom took us to the movies to see _Kramer versus Kramer_. I'm not sure how that happened, because my mom hated my first girlfriend."

"That sucks."

"I think it had more to do with the fact that she convinced me to dye my hair blue too when we started dating than with her personality."

"Wait, wait," Skye stops him, pinching the bridge of her nose comically like the story is too much for her to process. "You had blue hair?"

"It was the 70s."

"Do you have any pictures?"

"That's classified," he says, smirking at her.

She leans back on the couch, disappointed.

"Hey," she calls, her attention on the file she has been idly holding in her lap once more, "I think I have something – there is a reference here to a gift, a present. It sounds dodgy."

She passes the folder to him. She's right. The wording of the document is suspicious in its vagueness.

"Good job," he says. "Underline everything that sounds off and put the files aside. We'll have Billy do the follow up."

"Some delegating! Finally!"

 

+

 

"Coulson?"

"What?"

"I'm bored again," Skye says. She's down on the common room floor, papers spread around her. Yeah, this is the best most romantic Valentine's Day ever. Loser, loser, loser.

"You're a professional," Coulson reminds her from the couch.

"So are you and I can tell you are about to flip the table in frustration."

"It's just that – I don't like paperwork."

Skye smiles. That's true, though looking at Coulson you think he must love paperwork, surely. Even Skye, before meeting him, imagined Coulson to be a faceless drone who loved paperwork and ruining the world.

"Come on, sir," she says, smiling because she knows so much better now. Not a faceless drone at all. "Let's do something fun."

 

+

 

And to think he hadn't thought it was a good idea when Mack had insisted on the basketball hoop in the garage. Coulson had thought it made for an unecessary distraction rather than a necessary one like Mack had argued. He's glad he caved in, in the end. He would have missed seeing Skye like this, frustrated because Coulson is totally destroying her in a one-on-one, because she is unable to manage one single decent shot.

"You are really bad at this," Coulson comments and Skye gives him a murderous tilt of the head. "How can you have such good aim with a gun and you can't manage a single hoop?"

"Because it's exactly the same, " she protests. He can tell it hurts her pride a bit, and she bites her bottom lip in resolve for a moment before trying again. She doesn't get it right this time either but it's getting better. The speed Skye usually picks things up Coulson has no doubt she'd be on a NBA level in a couple of weeks. She sighs. "I was trained to take down enemies, not shoot hoops."

She passes the ball to Coulson. He doesn't mean to be a smug asshat – he does mean it, a bit – but he manages a nice bank shot from where he stands.

"I hate this sport, it's stupid," Skye says.

 

+

 

She hates to admit it but she's actually bummed.

No, not about the basketball game, although yeah, she doesn't like losing, specially to Coulson.

She's actually bummed about the whole Valentine's Day business and it's ridiculous that she is because the day means nothing, and she should be happy for her teammates, and she's actually having fun with Coulson today, and she shouldn't be thinking about having a relationship with anyone, probably ever, it's not safe, and her life is not exactly easy or alluring for any guy to decide to jump in. Where would she meet people, anyway? How would she tell them about what she does and what she can do? Her family, her powers, all the death that surrounds her? No, what is bringing Skye down about today is that it's a sharp reminder that she probably has to give up that part of her life forever, that this is it, that there won't be more Valentine's Day or silly dates. 

 

+

 

"I know we don't talk about personal stuff," Skye tells him, once they are back on the couch.

"We don't?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

To be honest, Coulson does not spend much time contemplating her relationship with Skye. It's just something that is there. He has never met anyone like her in his life so he always thought examining and classifying their connection would be in vain. He thought they spoke about personal matters. It feels like they have.

"But you want to talk," he says.

Skye nods.

"It's still bugging me," she admits. "The whole not having a date thing."

But Coulson doesn't exactly feel comfortable contemplating Skye's love life, specially in a potential sense.

"I feel like I should have enjoyed it more, the last time I did something like this with my boyfriend," she goes on. "You? Ever think about your last Valentine's Day?"

That's an east one, Coulson thinks.

"My last Valentine's Day? Well, I didn't really get to celebrate the last couple or so because my girlfriend thought I was dead. On account of me being actually dead."

Skye snorts. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was meant to be a joke, you can laugh."

She smiles shyly at him.

"I miss Miles," she suddenly says.

"I'm sorry."

He's not that sorry, except for her being sad about it. Miles Lydon betrayed her and was not at all a trustworthy person. It frustrates Coulson to hear her say she misses him, because it implies she somehow believes he deserves someone like Lydon.

"Do you have a favorite year?" she asks him. "A favorite Valentine's Day? Sorry, I know it's too personal."

"We've already done too personal tonight," he says, and he sort of realizes it's true, and it's not the end of the world. "You know about my blue hair."

That makes her smile. Coulson feels a swelling inside him. He would tell her more embarrassing things if that means she doesn't get to be sad. She's been sad all day, he's noticed. He also guesses it has to do with the fact that ever since she gained her powers almost a year ago Skye believes she'll never have a romantic relationship again. Not that she's said it with these exact words, but he can tell, he could tell from the beginning. He doesn't think it's true – things will work out one way or another – but he also understands she can't see that yet.

"I was dating someone while I was in the Academy," he tells Skye. "It was pretty serious. We made plans. A Valentine's Day weekend."

"Did you go somewhere?"

"I was a bit of a proud jerk before we left, didn't want to let her pay for the holidays because I was ashamed she had money and I didn't. We ended up in the Mexican coast, somewhere obscure, off-season, the only two people in the whole hotel. Awful weather, it rained all the time. The pool didn't even have water in it."

"Ouch."

"It was perfect, every moment of it," he says, remembering, regretting things a bit. "She was perfect."

"Why did you guys break up?" Skye asks.

"My mom died," Coulson says.

Skye draws her knees against her chest, resting her chin, pensive. She looks at him and Coulson can tell she understands, he doesn't have to explain what he means.

"Is she still...?"

"She's fine," he tells her. "She's in the private sector now."

"Now that's an _ouch_ ," Skye says and he almost snorts out a laugh.

"Your favorite Valentine's Day?"

"The first one with Miles. I hadn't had a real boyfriend before and he made me feel like – like he was in with me for the long run. That hadn't really happened to me before, having someone just want to be with me. I know he made a lot of mistakes but I'll always be grateful to him for that. Making me feel wanted for the first time."

She stops for a moment, and he doesn't say anything either. He wonders if they should be back working on the files.

"And it's not that I want to go back to what I had with Miles," Skye explains – like she somehow owes Coulson an explanation, which is absurd. "Or that I want some random hookup just to get a date. But I'm –"

" _Lonely_?" he says. She looks at him in surprise.

"You noticed, uh?"

Coulson nods. He doesn't say that lonely people, starved people, tend to smell each other out.

"So this is the part of the movie where, realizing we are the only two people in the world without a date at Valentine's Date, we decide we should date each other."

She makes an embarrassed snorting sound afterwards.

Coulson smiles at her mildly.

"What do you miss?" he asks.

"What?"

"About your dates with Miles? What do you miss?"

"It wasn't anything big. Miles is not the type to book a table in a expensive restaurant and give you jewelry. I wouldn't want that, anyway. Well, maybe the restaurant thing is nice," she comments, in such an unassuming way that Coulson feels the urge to get up and call the most expensive place in Washington for a table. Not that SHIELD has the money to spare. Not that it wouldn't be weird, for him as her boss, to propose something like that. She goes on: "It was mostly silly, domestic stuff. We had this ritual. We'd have breakfast food for dinner and watch an old movie and drink cheap champagne. And have lots of sex, of course."

"Well," Coulson says, having decided something from looking at her face all night. "I can't help you with the lots of sex, evidently. But the rest shouldn't be too hard."

She raises an eyebrow.

 

+

 

"I can make scrambled eggs," he says, studying the contents of the kitchen cupboard.

"I can make Pop-Tarts," she says, holding out the boxes. "We have Wild Cherry, Confetti Cupcake and Peanut Butter. Ugh."

This is turning out to be a strange day. They were supposed to spend it working. Skye wasn't supposed to be re-enacting romantic rituals with Coulson. But she likes the illusion of it. She knows it's fake and Coulson and her are not – but it's still nice.

"Why do we have Pop-Tarts?" Coulson asks, somewhere between really confused and really offended.

"Hunter likes them," she explains.

"Why does Hunter like Pop-Tarts? He's British."

"He likes them because he's British."

He makes an understanding gesture.

"I'm in charge of the grill, you're in charge of the Pop-Tarts," he tells her.

Her life is all kind of fucked-up, Skye knows, but it means something that Coulson is trying so hard. 

 

+

 

"Okay, your scrambled eggs are good," she is saying. "But _my_ Pop-Tarts? Now those were amazing."

Coulson laughs. 

The whole situation is dangerous – they just had breakfast for dinner and they are comfortably sitting on the couch watching _Barefoot in the Park_ and they don't have cheap champagne but they scored Simmons' expensive beer – and he feels lulled by the warmth of this illusion of domesticity, companionship. Skye is perched at the end of the couch, knees to her chest again and her feet are touching Coulson's thigh as she laughs about something in the movie and he's laughing too and it's dangerous. It's better than watching her be sad and pretend she isn't.

Yet something about this picture bothers him.

Something makes him feel selfish and greedy.

"Skye," he calls.

"What?"

"I don't want your old rituals," he says. She frows in confusion. "I want to be part of the new ones."

He leans into her to press his mouth against hers, wrapping one hand around her leg. He can almost taste it, almost feel the warmth of her lips, when suddenly – because she looks like she was okay with his move – at the last moment Skye pulls back.

Coulson stands like that for a second, close to her, gripping her, not really understanding the rejection.

"I'm sorry," he starts, thinking he's never going to really make it up to Skye, this misreading of the situation, this taking advantage.

She shakes her head. "No, no, no, I want you to kiss me, I swear" she says. "It's just that..."

She _wants_ him to kiss her. She _swears_.

He blinks at the information.

"What?"

"My mouth tastes of Pop-Tart," she says, simply, covering her mouth with her hand. "It's not how I want to do this."

He understands, and he pulls back, dropping his hand from Skye's knee to her ankle, as she seems to like how he's touching her. He doesn't want to let go.

"How do you want to do this?" he asks, not sure what _this_ is, having his own unrealistic hopes about it. He never thought... Until a minute ago he didn't know this is what he wanted. Which is ridiculous because... who wouldn't want this? Who wouldn't want her?

"Do you mind if I go to my room for five minutes? Brush my teeth?" she asks.

There's something touchingly down-to-earth about it and maybe he has become a really strange man with the years but Coulson likes it. It's romantic in its own way. Does Skye mean to be romantic? This has all happened quite fast – and very slow. Just a second ago he was making eggs, just a second ago he was giving her the pile of files to work through, just a second ago she was bleeding to death in his arms, just a second ago three years ago he picked her up from her van in an alleyway.

He rocks foward again, knees digging into the couch, but this time he presses his mouth against the curve of her shoulder, and this time Skye lets him, trembles and arches her body against the contact, letting out a tiny, surprised, hitched noise when Coulson nibbles at the spot gently, marveled at how hot and soft her skin feels.

"Uh, well, okay," she says, lamely. "I'll meet you back in your quarters."

"My quarters?" he asks, surprised.

"Yeah. Unless you don't want to."

"God, Skye, I want –"

He drifts off, unable to resist it and kissing her neck some more, dropping his mouth to the hollow below her throat.

"Fine, fine," Skye says, no longer in stunned embarrassment, taking control as she always does, as she likes it. "The sooner I get to my room the sooner we can keep doing this."

And Coulson can't argue with that logic, but it's still a struggle, letting her stand up, letting her go.

 

+

 

She has the impulse to change into proper clothes – get out of this t-shirt and this sweater and the pajama pants, everything smelling of the day working and fooling around and being with Coulson – into something decent. But then she decides that's pretty ridiculous and artificial and it would make her seem too self-conscious. And Coulson had wanted to kiss her with the pajama pants and the Confetti Cupcake-flavor mouth and all. Coulson had wanted to kiss her. Wow. And she had wanted to kiss him. She wants to kiss him right now. She is brushing his teeth for a second time now, getting ready and the whole situation is surreal. Coulson is supposed to be off-limits – that's the whole point of it. She never thought about him that way. Why should she? When she met him he was this powerful, authoritative, kind and charming man who wore perfectly-tailored suits and he was twice her age and totally out of her league and then he became the most important thing in her life and she couldn't afford to lose even a shred of that. She couldn't mix things. Except apparently she _could_. She touches her bottom lip, thinking how close Coulson's mouth came to it. 

She looks at herself in the mirror; she looks nervous, wonderfully terrified.

All the stupid conversations about Valentine's Day. Something about this feels familiar. How long has it been since she last hid in a bathroom like this, to check her appearance, and to give herself a pep talk, insecure because a boy was waiting for her outside. And Coulson is not a boy but he kind of is.

 

+

 

He could explore her mouth all day, just like this, but he could do so many other things. After their first moments of hesitation – Skye standing in front of him in his room, neither of them knowing how to start and then the sudden clash of mouths such a relief – things are progressing smoothly. The five minutes waiting for her to brush her teeth had turned into fifteen and he spent them wondering if she had changed her mind. So now he holds on to her, excited by the idea that she didn't change her mind at all.

He unzips her sports sweater slowly, just like she did with his jacket and tie, the way she slipped them between her capable fingers, the gesture unmistakeably suggestive. He tries to do the same for her, sliding the clothes gently off her shoulders. He touches her bare arms, he grabs her hips gingerly, while Skye smiles at him, encouraging him, looking nervous, looking gorgeous.

"I'm glad how this day turned out," he says, chuckling softly and skimming his thumb along the elastic of her pants.

"Your very elaborate plan to have us all alone and together in the Playground for Valentine's Day."

He stops. "You know I wouldn't do that."

"I know," she says. "You need to learn to take some teasing."

"I'm treading the waters as it is, I don't think jokes about abusing my power as your boss are going to be a big hit with me tonight."

"Fair point," she concedes. "Let's get back to the undressing."

He smiles while she steps out of her pants, waits for him to lose the shirt with an expectant look on her face. He pulls her towards him, kissing her again before going on.

Because he's so close he can feel something is not quite right as he tries to undress her. He can see her discomfort as he grabs the hem of her t-shirt.

"What's wrong?"

Skye swallows.

"Nothing. It's so stupid. It's just that... This is the first time another person sees..." she places her hand over her stomach, the meaning unmistakeable. "I don't have a problem with it, I don't think my scars are ugly or anything. But I was wondering if you would care."

"You know I don't care," Coulson says. "Just like I know you won't care about mine."

She nods, swallowing again.

"Can we do it at the same time?"

He takes a step back from her, nodding. He takes off his pants first, so that they are both in more or less the same state of undress.

They pull at their tops over their heads at the same time. When the t-shirt is off it takes Coulson a split of a second to focus his eyes. Skye, in mauve underwear, looking at him.

"All right?" he asks.

She nods. Her eyes dart over the line of his scar. Coulson doesn't mind. He tries to take in the whole of her, the way her hair falls, wild, over her dark bare shoulders. Her scars, yes, but everything else; her legs, her navel, her necklace resting between her breasts, the way he can tell her heart is pounding fast.

"What are you thinking?" she asks and he must have gotten a bit distracted.

What is he thinking?

Coulson leans to whisper in her ear. He wonders how many thousands or hundred of thousands have said the same exact words today. For him to be saying them today of all days. But they don't feel trite or overused when Skye hears them, it feels to him like they are new.

"Come on," Skye says, once she recovers, clutching his hand tightly and leading him to the bed, picking up the box of condoms he's pretty sure she stole from Bobbi.

They get under the sheets and take off their underwear, laughing like shy teenagers at one moment or another. Skye scans his body with selfish curiosity and seems to approve of what she sees.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he sighs, as his half-hard cock presses against her sigh.

"Well, _I_ have bigger problems than that," Skye replies, gestures down her body. "But I've been doing my exercises. I'm pretty confident I won't level a small city, no matter how good you are."

Coulson drops to kiss her, smiling against her mouth in an attempt to get her to relax. He wasn't worried about that, but it's enough that Skye was. He kisses her slowly, moving down her chin and throat, nuzzling her jaw, both hungry and gentle.

He works his hand between Skye's legs, parting her knees easily; she is so eager and Coulson remembers it's been a long time for her as well, he remembers how lonely they both have been, and he remembers loneliness is not the reason why they are doing this.

He grabs her, suddenly rough for just a moment.

"F-fuck," Skye says, shutting her eyes very tightly.

"Am I –?"

"Hurting me? Yeah, right. Do I sound like you are hurting me?"

"No," he replies, but he needed to make sure. He presses her against the mattress, his mouth distracting her from the movements of his hand in such a way that she gasps in surprises when he pushes two fingers into her, easily. 

He watches her catch her breath, rolling her hips against Coulson's hand.

"I'm sorry you didn't have a date for Valentine's Day," he tells her as he drops wet kisses between her breasts.

"Oh god, Coulson," Skye moans when he crooks his fingers in a particularly effective angle. "I think this totally qualifies as a date."

He slides his mouth from her chest to her mouth, biting at her lower lip.

"I guess it does," he mutters, slowling down, building the tension inside her, fucking her slowly with his fingers, almost languidly.

He spares a vague, amused thought for the paperwork they left behind. He promises to wake up early tomorrow and finish, maybe cook some breakfast-for-breakfast. Maybe this time Skye will let him find out how Pop-Tarts taste on her mouth. He'd like that.

"C-coulson," Skye pants, trying not to thrash as he holds her.

He wonders if she should call him _Phil_ , if that's how this is supposed to be. But he actually likes _Coulson_ better, at least for now. She's always called him _Coulson_ , it's hers now.

He slips out of her, stroking instead, slick fingers messily against her clit. She comes quick at that, and Coulson drops his hand lower so he can feel the aftershocks against the palm of his hand, the heat, her wetness. Skye gasps as her body stiffens and then relaxes, pressing down against Coulson's hand, oversensitive but chasing that sort of discomfort. Coulson helps her get down, strokes her cheek and hair, parting the strands stuck to her face and forehead, a thin film of sweat covering her body. She is beautiful and surprising like this, and Coulson thinks he could watch her recover from an orgasm for the rest of his life.

"Okay, I take back what I said," Skye tells him when she is able to speak again. "Maybe you are going to make me level some small city."

"Thank you, Skye," he says, almost too polite. "That's very nice."

She smirks. "You're very nice." Then she frowns: "God, I'm sorry. That was bad."

Coulson nods, making fun of her. He stretches towards the bedside table to grab the condoms.

"Want to do the honors?" he asks.

And she hasn't touched him before and it's such a shock, her hand around his cock, keeping him still, like she is rooting him to this place, this bed, this one feeling he can't identify. It's new and familiar. Her fingers feel amazing stroking him once, twice, almost as amazing as having his inside her. He shuts his eyes for a moment as Skye rolls the condom down his cock. He shuts his eyes, the sheer _helpfulness_ of her gesture is going to make him cry or make him come this very moment and he's not sure what will be worse.

"Jesus," he mutters when she lets go, so completely shaken. He had been more or less all right until now.

"Religious, are we?" Skye asks, smug and dashing, lifting her hands to his belly, playing with the dark patch of hair.

"Jewish on my mother's part," he replies breathlessly.

She laughs. Loud. Beautiful. That sound is going to haunt him, he decides, it's going to be kept here between the walls of his room for ages.

"This is the most fun I've had in a long time," she tells him, reaching her body to give Coulson's shoulder one single gentle kiss.

"More than just fun, I hope," he says, he doesn't mind if it sounds desperate, he knows Skye would be careful with it.

And she is careful. She runs her fingers through his hair, wrapping her legs around his hips and drawing him to her, so that his cock is positioned and already pressing at her. She massages the back of his neck for a moment and tells him – not whispers, for she is much braver than he is – those words a thousand other people must be saying right now. But not exactly like Skye, no, he doesn't think so.

And he likes to think he pushes into her the same moment she tells him, but maybe that's just him being a romantic. It feels like nothing he's ever felt, or maybe it's been so long that he's forgotten. Not just being inside her – but that too, of course, _oh god_ – but everything else that has happened today. He starts moving inside her, unable to comprehed how something can feel this good, and wondering if it always does and he can't remember, and wondering how he could go without this for almost three years.

"Is it okay like this?" he asks her. "Do you prefer to be on top?"

He knows Skye, he imagines missionary is not her usual choice. He fears she might feel trapped.

"No, no," she says, pressing her hand against his chest, first her fingertips, then one firm palm over his heart. "It's good like this, it's really good."

Saying Skye say it's _good_ does things to him, obviously, and he picks up the rhythm.

The sad technical part of it is that he would like to make love to this woman all night, but he can't. She's just – _too much_.

"Skye –" he pants loudly against her forehead, her neck, aware that he is not going to last, needing to give her more. "I can't... I'm sorry, I wanted..."

Skye brings her hands between their bodies, like she understand what all his muttering means. It's almost counter-productive, because he can feel Skye touching herself, her fingers sliding down her body and brushing the base of his cock with each thrust, Coulson almost losing it the first time it happens. In the end it's by some fucking miracle that Coulson doesn't want to call something romantic or mushy that they manage to come together, groaning low together, almost comically, a heap of happy limbs falling against each other in the most cliched of ways. 

Almost immediately afterwards he feels like falling asleep, feeling too safe and too content to sat awake, and Skye must pick up on that, kissing his hair softly and muttering something about "doing the honors again", taking care of the condom swiftly and coming back to the bed to tug him against her, letting him sleep against her breast.

 

+

 

Skye is not sure how long Coulson has been awake, just that one moment she was quietly threading her hands through his hair – she enjoys doing that, she has discovered in just a couple of hours, pampering him a bit – and the next moment he is glancing up at her from where he rests on her shoulder, fixing an inquisitive look upon her. For an absurd moment – Coulson is not like that, and they've said... _stuff_ , they've said stuff to each other – she thinks he is going to ask her why she's still in his room, how come she hasn't left. Wouldn't be the first time that has happened to her. But he doesn't, of course.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He looks worried. He doesn't look the part but he's a sweet guy. For a moment Skye wishes she had met him earlier in her life, things would have been a lot easier.

"You ask that question a lot," she point out.

"I like making sure," Coulson tells her, kissing the side of her breast, dropping to kiss her over her stomach, his lips brushing the scarred, hardened tissue with all the care in the world.

"I like that," she says.

"Me asking if you are okay or...?"

"No, _that_ ," she tells him as she pushes his head down again, Coulson closing his mouth around her scars. "Is that weird?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all."

He lays half a dozen more kisses on the area. Skye likes it _a lot_. It's sexual, but it's not entirely sexual. If that makes any sense. He spends some time on it, and Skye feels her whole body begin to shiver. She thinks that for all her great superpowers there's no earthquake that can compare to what Coulson can do to her.

"Is it weird that I want to have sex again?" she asks.

He lifts his head, smiling at her. It gives Skye some strange thrill to say the word _sex_ in front of him, which is ridiculous because they've just had it, the sex. But maybe Coulson feels the same way, because he gives her this really thrilled look.

"You mean you trust me to be able to go again? Even though I come from the Great Era of Pinball, way back?"

Skye throws her arms over her face, mortified.

"God, just – forget about that. I'm so embarrassed. You know I'd never say anything like that."

She keeps her eyes shut and her arm over them until Coulson wraps his hand around her wrist, disentangling her gently.

"I know you didn't mean it," he says. Then he smirks at her: "But in case you had any doubt..."

He grabs her hand and bring it between his legs. He's hard again. Skye widens her eyes at him.

"Okay, maybe don't look so surprised," he says, all grumpy about it.

"Aw," she says, touched by his sudden insecurity. She presses her mouth against his arm as encouragement.

She moves her mouth from his shoulder to his neck and Coulson relaxes, letting out one last grumpy groan before tangling his fingers into Skye's hair.

"But I have a request," he says. She tilts her head at him. "Could you be on top this time?"

Skye doesn't answer; she grabs his wrist a little more forcefully than she meant and she turns him on his back, climbing on top of him, straddling his lap immediately. Coulson breathes deep and slow and elaboratedly as she slides up, all warm over his thighs and balls and the length of his cock. His expression becomes serious all of the sudden, almost dangerous. Skye grins at him, like a wolf, dipping her head to claim Coulson's mouth, to claim everything she can get her hands on, that runaway kid greediness coming back to her after so many years.

"I guess this is the part where I say _Happy Valentine's Day_ to you," she says against his mouth.

Coulson's hand come up to her back, moving in long strokes.

"Wasn't it just a disgusting consummerist invention?" he asks.

"It is. And we are such a cliché for doing this but... I'm also really glad we are."

"Me too," Coulson says, arching up to touch his mouth to her cheek and make her laugh a bit nervously at the tenderness of it all. "And I'm glad everyone on the team had dates and we didn't."

"Yeah, we are such losers. It's great."

He turns, propped on his shoulder as much as he can to reach for another condom. This time he makes the honor and Skye watches, like it's an spectacle.

He grabs her hips and lifts her above him, Skye reaching between them to guide him.

"Come here, loser." Coulson tells her.

Skye smiles. But what happens when losers win so much?


End file.
